Dont be Dead
by Ripjohnscane
Summary: Sherlock misses his old life after his fake death, he visit the apartment to bring back some memories. beginning to a series, if you want more please comment. Warning some language in Chapter 4, sorry but I cant control John's reaction.
1. Chapter 1

Don't. be. dead.

He traced his fingers around the coffee table that had once been a part of his daily life. He never noticed all of the stories that it could tell. The mug stain from when John first came to the apartment, the scratch from John's cane resting on it, the- Sherlock stopped; he didn't want to tempt himself any longer. All the stories it could tell, and Sherlock had never once noticed it. He stirred around the room examining everything that he had never noticed while living in 221B. All the memories with John and their adventures; how he missed every one of them. Damn. Again he thought of John. It had been a mere week since his death and he wanted to check up on John. He was afraid of what would happen after he saw the look on his face at the hospital.

Sherlock was never afraid of being discovered. He told Mycroft before his brother could have the pleasure of figuring out his fake death. Mycroft had been updating him on John's condition to stop Sherlock from risking revealing himself to John and Moriarty's henchmen. No matter what Sherlock said, his brother never believed that he could have bribed or beaten all of Moriarty's men. Silly Mycroft, he thought, always the careful one. He knew that Mycroft would eventually find out he had returned to his apartment, but he had a few moments to soak back in his normal life.

Normal. Sherlock pondered. He chuckled; it was anything far from normal. He felt bad leading John into all of his mischievous acts, but he couldn't help but feel like they were made to be together. Not together as a _couple…_but….sigh. Sherlock stumbled over his thoughts like how John used to get flustered when people called them a couple.

By now he had made his way across the room to his old bedroom. Shocked, he starred at the empty room, it almost seemed like he had never left. He eyes gazed over the clothes strayed from the chair to the bed. Clearly, John had been having company visit. Sighing, he wondered if there could ever be something between them. He had always loved John as a friend to start off, but it grew to be more than that. He loved John, and wasn't afraid to say it….in his head. The problem was John would never feel the same way as he does. With every girl the Doctor brought home Sherlock's jealous grew. He wanted john all to himself.

Gazing out the window, he saw John across the street. John had changed his entire life after his fall. His face grew long and pale as the days went on. Sherlock had always kept a close on him; for his protection and because he longed for the sound of his voice. The Doctors blog had ended with the scandal that occurred after he admitted making up Moriarty, but John knew otherwise. Sherlock glanced over the glowing screen filled with information about Sherlock; newspaper reports, case files, and even some family albums that Mycroft had lent him. He turned back to the window. John was chatting on the phone by now, probably Ms. Hudson having a fit about something going wrong. She too grew lonely after Sherlock's death.

John eyes were scanning the road, preparing to cross when his eyes met the strange figure standing in the window.


	2. Chapter 2

John's heart sank. His mind played around with the different possibilities what the dark figure from his window could be, but his heart knew otherwise. _It's Ms. Hudson, she just cleaning the apartment_, John thought. _Wrong. She won't even look at you anymore; you just bring her pain and sorrow. Then it's Mycroft checking up on me. Wrong again, John, _his heart toyed with his feelings, _Mycroft watches you from a distance, he hates to watch you fall apart even though he's as damaged as you. _

"DAMN!" John swore out loud. Heads turn and John clutched his right knee as an excuse. John's limp had come back since he saw Sherlock's lifeless body lying outside the hospital. The doctors told John that he was fine, but he blamed it on the cyclist that had hit him as he ran across the road to his friend. _Deceased Friend…_his thoughts were back. John had been torn apart, he knew that Sherlock was dead but his heart could never admit that fact.

John began to hobble across the road to his apartment; trying to remain calm and collective. He was trying to keep a low profile in case Sherlock did come back so he won't attract Moriarty's friends. After several attempts at trying to unlock the door with his shaking fingers, John ran up the stairs to his flat. Nearly breaking through the door, John rushed into his living and began sprinting for his friend's bedroom_. Decease Friend…_ "SHUT UP!" John's feet grew roots into the floor. He couldn't move. He cry echoed through the apart, but no response was heard. Slowly and steadily, John opened the door to his bedroom. Surprised he found it empty. The Doctor sank into the soft bed where his friend once laid; he began to cry.

John had always wanted things to go back to normal. 2 days after his friend's death, and after many hours of sitting in Sherlock's chair, John had made it his mission to move on without Sherlock; even pretending he never existed. The first thing he did was remove all of his belongings from the apartment and place them in Sherlock's old room, but John could never bring himself to touch anything from his friend without having flashbacks. John was broken even more; he felt ashamed of trying to belittle his friend. So he turned to the most reasonable solution he could think of: he began his day with Sherlock. John would wake up from Sherlock's bed and begin to pour two cups of tea every morning. He would proceed to read the paper to Sherlock's chair and tell remind him of their misadventures around England. After a long day's work at the hospital, John would come home to the cold bed where his old friend used to lay every night. He would cry himself to sleep and wake up in the morning as if his old friend was never gone.

John wiped his tears and began to pity himself. _Of course he's not here, HE'S DEAD YOU IDIOT. _His mind was blunt but his heart was cruel; playing tricks on him would not solve his emptiness. John began to tidy the apartment for the first time in a week. Picking up clothing and newspaper made John's heart hurt but he needed it. This was the day where everything would change; this will be the day where John would get his life together and move on.

But the dark figure from the window had other plans. Carefully, he tipped toed down the stairs from John's room; the one place he would never look. He watch as the Doctor limped around the room, tiding as he went. Sherlock wait for John to see his clue. _Please,_ he begged, _John please_. John's fingers met with the soft warmth of the blue scarf. Sherlock watched as the Doctor's back grew stiff and straight. As swift and calm as a soldier, he turned on the balls on his heels.


	3. Chapter 3

DBD part 3

The breaks in between show the change of character to stop the confusion for you guys.

His eyes were still and dead. A storm was brewing in his ocean coloured eyes. His face grew long and pale; almost a deathly colour.

"Well I was expecting a different reaction," Sherlock charmingly with a hint of fear.

John's face could predict every move before he spoke. He was relieved that his dear friend was alive but disgusted by what he had put him through. Sherlock took a death breath preparing for the storm.

"Oh-…. Oh my god," John whispered, he laughed a little but his face went back to a blank state. Sherlock could not read his movements to see what would happen next; was he overcome by emotion from seeing his friend or just the fact that John hit the floor with full force.

After about half an hour or so, Sherlock had cleaned up John's bloody nose and placed him on the couch with a rag and a tea waiting for him. He couldn't decide what to do next. His mind raced with plans to put into action while cleaning up the Doctor, he had come up with the two best scenarios: One. Leave without any trace to keep his presence a secret and hope that John thought it was all a dream or stay and help his friend. He was torn

John awoke with a large headache and blood stain shirt, he could quiet remember what had caused him to be in such a position until he saw the drops of blood leading to a pile near the steps to his bedroom. _Sherlock! _His heart sang. He raced across the flat searching for his beloved friend. Sherlock stood motionless as John began to tear the apartment apart.

"I just cleaned the place you bloody idiot! WHERE ARE YOU?" John mumbled about. Sherlock bit his tough to stop him from laughing. He was leaning against the wall beside the couch, and when John woke up, he never noticed his statue like friend sitting right at his feet. The detective had dosed off while waiting for his beloved friend to awake, it wasn't really his choose though. His body grew tired and longed for a quick nap after the excitement that had occurred from John's accident. By now the sun was setting leaving a soft glow over the tips of his brown locks; hiding the rest of his body from John's weary eyes.

A soft knock broke John from his mission. He answered the door with such hast, Ms. Hudson muffed her scream to stop from disturbing the entire neighbourhood.

"What is wrong with you!" her voice was angry but grew tired and lonely towards the end, it was almost like the look in John's eyes told her everything. John's limp came back while pacing into the kitchen and back to escort Ms. Hudson to a cup of tea. Sherlock, still crouching under the window, began to daze off while John and Ms. Hudson chatted with bitter expressions.

"What do you mean you saw HIM!?" She shrieked! John quickly covered her mouth. _Don't._ He mouthed the words to her but she already knew what she had done wrong. With quick feet she was out the door, chattering about how John saw his sister or something in case someone was listening. She left John with a quick kiss and rushed out the door with a slam.

Silence. Sherlock could hear John's breath. He was waiting, no… he was_ listening_. _Ah, clever boy._ Sherlock smirked. After what had seemed like hours, Sherlock let out a loud sigh, John nearly fainted once again.

"It's good to see you." Sherlock face began to widen with a grin. John's eyes sent a wave tumbling over his smile washing it right off his face. For the first time since the boys had known each other, Sherlock was scared. Not for himself, but for John. He was afraid of what John might do next.

John caught himself before he fainted again; he took on deep breath and sigh. He sat down in Sherlock's chair, with his hands covering his face. _Don't cry_, John thought;_ don't let him see you cry. You are strong John. Don't cry in front of him. _He stood up with tall perched back and arms glued pin straight to his hips like the soldier he once was. Both men stood there; waiting for the opponent's first move.

"Why?" he choked out. The sun had set and the room was dark; John didn't want to have to see his face. He was angry with his friend, he hated him. _Why! _John wanted to scream. He wanted answers; Not how but _why_! _Why would he do this to me?! _The Soldier's face went into a deep red, holding back tears and bitter words, still holding onto the silence that stood between the two men; hoping that his friend would break it.

"John, I…." The silence still there nothing could be said to fill that emptiness.


	4. Chapter 4

WARNING: some swearing is involved, but I mean c'mon its John Watson! He's bound to freak out with a couple foul words.

Both of their lives had changed since their first handshake. Sherlock grew longing and needing the people around him and let himself begin to trust the people who loved him. John allowed himself to open up more and show his emotions to the people he cared about, that was until Sherlock's fall. John fell apart that day and Sherlock knew he had destroyed the man he cared about. Standing there in silence, the friends waiting for the worst of the storm.

"You...you BASTARD!" John screamed, "How could you do this to me! Showing up here like nothing has ever happened after what you have done to me? You really think it's that easy, well you're wrong you…you…you BLOODY IDIOT!" _That's it John, use your words wisely_, he thought to himself. It's not his fault that his friend showed up out of the blue, it's not like he had a speech prepared in honor of his so-called dead friend. John was angry and he knew Sherlock could feel it in the air.

The darkness that surrounds them hid the tears rolling down the Doctor's cheek; he was glad he friend couldn't see his vulnerability.

"J-John I'm sorry," Sherlock begged, he never begged. _No, John, stay focused, he deserves it. _"I never-"

"Never what? Wanted to see me again? Never wanted to have the decency to tell me that you're alive!?" John's hands were shaking; he couldn't control the words, it came out like vomit. "You really think that I would forgive you after what you have done to me? Well you're wrong! Sherlock, you're WRONG! For the first time in our relationship YOU'RE WRONG!"

Silence came over John's body again, leaving him cold and shivering after the wave of emotion that had just separated him from Sherlock.

"Relationship?" questioned the detective, "what _is_ our relationship?" He was trying to change the subject, that clever son of a bitch.

"Don't change the subject; I'm still mad at you!" _Childish; you sound childish, get it together, John! _ "Sherlock answer me this: why? Why would you cause me so much pain and stress, getting close to me and then tearing it all apart in under a minute? Why?"

"I did it all for you, to save you. Moriarty's men had you, Ms. Hudson and everyone else I love at gun point. I was for you John, I wanted to protect you."

John was stunned. He was overcome by joy and relief and could finally celebrate his friends return. His reply was all he needed to break through the wall John had built around himself. John tore through the tense emotional barrier that surrounded the two men and embraced Sherlock. They stood there for what seemed like a lifetime, holding each other in the arms; interlocked like their bodies were made to fit like a puzzle. John buried his face into Sherlock's chest.

"I'm so sorry; I just didn't know what to do without you." John sobbed. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, John." Sherlock's chin rested on the Doctor's head. With every deep breath John took between his cries, Sherlock's grip grew tighter. The men separated from their long embrace, John felt embarrassed and slipped back into darkness.

"Sorry, I don't know what came over me," He scratched the back of his head while turning his gaze to the floor. He walked away and sank into the couch, wanting his friend to forget everything that had occurred this cold night. With his hands protecting his embaressment from his face, he could never see what would happen next.

Sherlock slipped onto the cushion next to his friend and cradled him in his arms. They would lie together through the rest of that night; John's head rested on his friends shoulder with Sherlock's arm protecting him from the evil of the empty room. Conversation would break the their daydreams throughout the night, with an explanation of how he faked his death, what they both did for those long 7 days and how John dealt without his dear partner in crime. They laughed, cried and embraced, spending every second of that first night together.

With the sun's beams breaking through the window, John's eyes met Sherlock's; he wanted one final question answered.

"Don't ever do that to me again, alright?"

"Never again John, I promise"

And with that last reply John's eyes grew heavy and he fell into a deep, peaceful sleep for the first time in a week.

He awoke to what seemed like noon. He was still tired, but he was too excited to sleep another minute. _Things will change, for the better_. He smirked. He loved his flatmate and thought that it was finally the right time to tell him how he felt. John knew that he could never move forward until he told Sherlock how he felt, but when Sherlock jumped he knew that he would never be able to move on. But that would all change; the world would be different for them with each.

Adjusting his eyes to the light, he stretched with a loud yawn. Waiting for a reply from his love, he was only greeted with silence.

"Sherlock?" he called out into the empty room. "Hello? Where are you?" he moved swiftly around the flat, making sure to listen for his old friend. "It's not funny Sherlock, where are you?" No reply. "Dear God, SHERLOCK!" his eyes scanned around the room only to find a blue scarf draped where his friend once held him in his arms. His feet moved with hast towards the cold spot where Sherlock once lay. His fingers were numb as they met with the soft scarf. _Oh John you fool! How could you let yourself tell Sherlock how you felt last night, you scared him off you IDIOT!_ John didn't make a sound, standing a straight with his hands covered by this pointless piece of cloth that had never meant so much to him until this day. John didn't cry he did feel anything; he just wanted to die.

"Never again,"

John didn't turn around.

"I said never again didn't I," his arms locked around John, planting a kiss on his cold, stiff lips. "I never break a promise."


End file.
